


(at least i'm) trying

by singsongsung



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Of The Post-Breakup Variety, Post-Canon, inspired by tswift's folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/pseuds/singsongsung
Summary: On the night of her brother’s wedding, Alexis makes an irrefutably bad decision.
Relationships: Alexis Rose/Mutt Schitt, Stevie Budd & Alexis Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens/Alexis Rose
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63





	(at least i'm) trying

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt: And it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound / It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you / You’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town. 
> 
> Title from the same song by Taylor Swift, "this is me trying."

On the night of her brother’s wedding, Alexis makes an irrefutably bad decision.

Outside the town hall, under a cloudy night sky, the air thick in the aftermath of the rain, she curls her fingers into the collar of Mutt’s shirt. He’s been so thoroughly ensconced in the background of the day that it took her several hours to realize he’d come with his parents; outside, red wine drunk and with an ache lodged between her ribs that seems like it’ll stay there forever, Alexis kisses him, hard, and feels him kiss her back. His hands settle against her hips and she squeezes her eyes closed even more tightly, fighting against the memory of Ted’s habit of sliding a hand to the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his.

“Your place,” she gasps against Mutt’s mouth, demands it. There’s a flicker of hesitation in the way his fingers flex against her waist, but he nods, taking her hand and leading the way.

Alexis can _feel_ the humidity wreaking havoc on her hair. The town feels swirly around her, every landmark lurching closer. Outside Rose Apothecary, she can see Ted’s earnest face, his button-down shirt, the gift of a pencil and an adult high-five. Through the dark windows of the café, she can see her hand in his, all her hope and hesitation, the breath of anticipation before their mouths met. She can see the outline of a motorcycle hiding in the shadows; she can almost hear his voice, _Alexis!_ , softly surprised and happy.

Mutt’s thumb skimming over her knuckles feels like a question. She pulls her hand away.

When they’re almost at the barn, she pulls off her shoes and carries them instead. Overgrown grass brushes her ankles, and she ignores the occasional pain of a stone digging into the ball of her foot. Mutt rubs at his beard. He’s quiet, like she knew he’d be.

Even when they’re inside, and she drops her shoes and pushes him back against the closed door, he doesn’t say anything. Alexis makes quick work of the buttons on his shirt, but his hands hover near her body, like he’s afraid to touch her.

“What are you _waiting_ for?” she asks. It’s a challenge, but it feels like it’s directed at herself, not at him. Her eyes feel hot, like they’re burning.

His hands trace along her dress, searching for the hidden zipper. “Are you - ”

She can’t bear to let him get to _sure_. “Shut up,” she interrupts instead. She unzips her dress herself, and to her immense relief, his hands finally seek out her skin, broad and rough and just cool enough to make her shiver.

His bed still smells like trees.

They remember one another well enough, her nails scratching down his back, his bruising grip on her hips. Alexis’ back arches up into the pain when his teeth bite into the swell of her breast, and her hand presses against the back of his head, asking for more.

Mutt makes her come; she knew he would. His hand sinks into her hair as she rides out her orgasm, his mouth on her collarbone. Alexis looks at the wall of the barn and tries her best to think of nothing at all, biting her lip against all the words that want to spill out of her mouth.

He flips them over and finds his own release, his breath hot against her shoulder. She curls a leg up around his hips and slides her hands over the muscles in his back. Simultaneously, she yearns to be alone and dreads the moment the weight of his body won’t press into hers anymore.

She tugs his sheets over herself while he disposes of the condom. He comes back and joins her in the bed, a solid foot of space between their bodies, both of their gazes focused up on the ceiling. Alexis can remember their first, faltering fights, in this very place. She can remember sleep-mussed hair brushed out of her face, a kiss against her cheek, a bed with a different smell on its sheets, a hand that would squeeze hers when she reached for it without even opening her eyes.

Mutt is still so quiet. When she turns her head toward him, she finds that he’s fallen asleep.

Leaving seems to be the obvious next step. Alexis slips back into her dress, picks up her shoes, and tiptoes out of the barn.

She makes it about five feet before she sinks down into the grass. It seems like her eyes flood and overflow in the same instant. She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle heavy sobs, and lets her shoes fall onto the ground.

The night is so cloudy that she can’t see the stars. All she can think of is the force of Ted’s hug when he arrived at her motel room, the way he’d pulled each piece of her clothing off and looked at her, touched her, like he’d never seen her before and he’d never have her again.

“Fuck,” she whispers into the dark. She wants to throw these awful, suffocating feelings far out into the fields, far up into the sky.

The barn door creaks when it opens, and Mutt’s footsteps are quiet. He hands her a roll of rough, eco-friendly toilet paper before he sits down at her side. Alexis rips a couple sheets off and blows her nose, noisily.

When she looks at Mutt, he’s a little blurry thanks to her wet eyes. He gives his head the slightest nod, like he knows the things she wants to say.

“I’m - ” She sucks in some air. “I’m supposed to go to New York next week.”

“You will,” he says. “You’ll go to New York next week.”

“ _How?_ ” she asks. “How am I supposed to - this isn’t… what a girl boss does, spend all her time crying over a guy, but how am I supposed to - ” She shakes her head. “How am I supposed to stop?”

“You just do,” Mutt tells her quietly. “One day, you just will.”

Alexis presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “He’s the only person I want to talk to about this,” she says, voice choked. “Isn’t that _stupid_?”

After a beat of silence, he says, simply, “No.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, dropping her hands. “I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have come here, we shouldn’t have - ”

“It’s okay,” Mutt says, as if it’s that easy, and she gives him a tired, disbelieving look; his response is a somber half-smile.

“It’s not,” she murmurs. “It’s not okay.” She looks away from him, out into the darkness, and maybe it’s kind of mean, to say this to Mutt, but god, she’s so _sad_ , still. “You were right, you know. He was everything I was looking for. In - ” She thinks of her brother’s unadulterated happiness, the way it rolled off him all day, in waves, like a perfectly-chosen cologne. “In a husband.”

“I know.”

Alexis blows out her breath, vaguely irritated by his reticence, even though she knows he’s under no obligation to be sitting out here with her in the damp grass in the middle of the night. “Do you know everything?”

“No,” Mutt says, and gives her a fully-formed smile, then. “But I know you don’t take shit, Alexis. You didn’t take mine. Don’t take your own.”

She looks at him for a long moment before she manages a tiny smile in response, even as a tear sneaks out of one of her eyes. All she can do is nod.

Mutt nods, too, and squeezes her shoulder. “Do you want me to take you home? Or… call your brother?”

“No,” Alexis says quickly. She blows her nose again. “No. Um, Stevie. You can call Stevie.”

Mutt goes back inside, and Alexis pulls her knees to her chest, tucking her bare toes beneath the fabric of her dress to keep them warm. She can see herself in this spot, years ago, awkwardly chatting with Tennessee. She can hear Ted’s enthusiastic pine cone pun; she pretended not to notice, at the time, but she can remember the way his eyes kept flicking down to her legs, bare beneath her dress, can remember the rush it gave her that she didn’t yet completely understand. She remembers how annoyingly quickly he corrected the assumption that they were together; she remembers how they laughed on the car ride back to town, how they got milkshakes and talked about their favourite furry patients.

She hadn’t known it, then, but she was falling for him, head over every pair of her heels.

She did this to Ted, once - lodged this kind of pain in his heart and left him to deal with it on his own. The apology she gave him no longer feels like enough. _Nothing_ feels like enough anymore, when Alexis has to wake up everyday and remember that his absence from her life isn’t temporary.

Stevie shows up with a sweater for her, a kindness so overwhelming that Alexis’ throat constricts once more. She sits next to Alexis in the grass, just like Mutt had, and says, “We don’t have to go til you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Alexis mumbles, huddled up in her sweater.

Stevie’s knee presses against hers, and they sit.

Alexis isn’t ready for a very long time.

She decides that’s okay.

fin.


End file.
